Glenn drained his glass and smacked his lips:
"No, ma'am," he said.
"No balloonists, either?"
"I don't guess so, Maryette. We've got the Boche flyers scared stiff. They don't come over our first lines anymore, and our own people are out yonder."
"Keed," she said, winningly sweet, "do you, in fact, love me a little—for Djack's sake?"
"Yes'm."
"I borrow of you that automatic pistol. Yes?" She smiled at him engagingly.[pg 319]
"Sure. Anything you want! What's the trouble, Maryette?"
She shrugged her pretty shoulders:
"Nothing. It just came into my cowardly head that the path to the lavoir is lonely at sundown. And there are new muleteers in Sainte Lesse. And I must wash my clothes."